


The Idea

by BridesmaidInLilac



Series: Submissive Tendencies [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Chastity Device, Dom!Sherlock, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Ownership, Puppy Play, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sub!John, There is a safeword but it rarely sees use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridesmaidInLilac/pseuds/BridesmaidInLilac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You want me to wear that?” John asked incredulously, quirking a skeptical brow at the vaguely penis-shaped piece of thick, hard plastic Sherlock held in his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You want me to wear _that_?” John asked incredulously, quirking a skeptical brow at the vaguely penis-shaped piece of thick, hard plastic Sherlock held in his hands.

It was, frankly, according to John, ridiculous.

“Yes.” Sherlock replied shortly, choosing to ignore John’s obvious reluctance with his idea. “I’ve taken your measurements and ordered the correct size and shape and model for maximum comfort and long-term wear.”

“Long-term wear?” John echoed, trying to remember when Sherlock had measured his cock and not at all comfortable with the idea of shoving his cock into the plastic device Sherlock had purchased and locking it away for ‘long-term’ wear. Or really, any term.

He was trying to keep an open mind with this, he really was, but John couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed with Sherlock’s grand idea. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Maybe a slimmer collar he’d feel better about wearing in public. Or…well, he wasn’t sure.

He hadn’t been expecting _this_.

“Yes. This way, I have control of you- or rather, a certain important part of you- at all times. The cage will act just as your collar does, except you won’t need to remove it in order to go out in public. It won’t interfere with other areas of our lives but it will act as a constant reminder that you belong to me and that I am controlling a part of you.” Sherlock slid from the bed to kneel in front of John, insinuating himself between John’s legs and pressing the plastic cock cage into John’s hands, forcing him to examine it.

“There are strategic holes at the base to help keep you clean.” Sherlock pointed out, turning the cage in John’s hands so he could see. “As well as a place at the end for urination.”

“This really wasn’t what I was expecting.” John said delicately, hesitantly turning the cage over and over in his hands, not wanting to hurt Sherlock’s feelings.

Sherlock smirked. “Of course it wasn’t what you were expecting, John. You love that I have the ability to surprise you, though.” He leaned forward, pressing their lips together and immediately licking into John’s mouth to steal a filthy kiss. “I’ve noticed how much you enjoy it when I deny you.” Sherlock whispered against John’s lips, making him shiver from the contact, as well as what he was saying. “You love it when I make you wait for your orgasm, when I outright deny you the ability to come. Do you disagree that you enjoy it? Do you disagree that you relish the times when I take my pleasure in your body and leave you hard…and frustrated…and wanting?”

John dumbly shook his head, his heart thudding in his chest and his stomach twisting in sudden, overwhelming arousal. His cock was pressing against the zip of his jeans and he canted his hips forward a bit, trying to relieve the pressure.

“You’ve never brought it up, and I’ve kept quiet because I thought perhaps you weren’t ready yet to accept that about yourself.” Sherlock continued, snaking his hand down to stroke John through his jeans. John moaned, his head falling forward to rest against Sherlock’s shoulder as his partner continued to whisper in his ear. “I think it’s time now, though.”

“And you think…you think I want to wear something like this?” John asked gratingly, shuddering as Sherlock deftly took his cock from his jeans and began stroking it slowly.

“No. I think you’ll wear it because _I_ want you to wear it.”

John’s mouth went dry at Sherlock’s tone of voice and he tried and failed to prevent the convulsive shudder down his spine.

“ _I_ want you to wear it.” Sherlock continued, lazily stroking John’s cock, a teasing pressure which nonetheless, coupled with his words, were quickly bringing John to the brink. “I want to know that, at any given time…on any given day, you’re locked in the cage. That you’re _mine_. That you’re aroused and suffering. Submitting to me, waiting on me and me alone to unlock your cage and finally allow you to become erect. I want to know that you’re waiting on me and my permission…to come.”

“Oh, fuck, Sherlock.” John choked, thrusting his hips, biting his lip. “I…I’m…c-close-”

Sherlock abruptly took his hand away from John’s cock, ceasing all pressure and denying John his orgasm. John groaned in protest, his eyes snapping open to stare, wide-eyed, at Sherlock, who remained cool and calm, his mouth curving in a knowing smile.

John was panting, flushed, his erection bobbing between their bodies but he didn’t make a move to touch his cock and bring himself off.

It was true, what Sherlock had said- all of it- and John, his body demanding to come, couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Will you do that for me, John?” Sherlock asked, stroking the insides of John’s thighs. “Will you give me control of your _cock_?” He drew the word out, accentuating the last syllable.

“Yes. Oh, Christ, _yes_.” John’s voice was clogged with arousal and it only grew worse when Sherlock’s eyes lit up at his acquiescence. “I…I don’t think I’ll fit in this right now.” John joked, holding up the plastic cock cage.

Sherlock eyed the cage before his eyes dropped to John’s cock. “You may have a point, John.” He murmured, raising an eyebrow as he ducked his head down and, without saying a word, took John’s cock in his mouth, sucking hard.

John shouted, tossing the cage to the side, and threading his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, thrusting up into the slick heat-

“I- I’m…. _Oooh_.” John groaned helplessly, eyes sliding shut as his orgasm crested….tantalizingly hovering just out of his reach…then, with one final, firm suck from Sherlock, crashed over him, his skin prickling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, leaving him shattered and shaking.

“Oh, _Jesus_.” John said weakly as Sherlock pulled away, licking his lips, grinning like the cat who’d got the canary.

* * *

 

The cage around his cock was tight but surprisingly comfortable.

John ran a questing hand over the hard plastic covering his flaccid penis. It was a surreal feeling, trying to touch his cock, being able to actually _see_ it through the transparent plastic, but unable to get at it. Already, the idea that he _couldn’t_ was starting to make arousal pool in his groin and John watched, intrigued, as his cock twitched, trying to get hard.

There was no room for his cock to grow, though, no room at all for him to get hard and John hissed as his cock pressed tightly against the end. It throbbed futilely and, if he hadn’t already come, John thought it’d probably be really uncomfortable. And incredibly arousing.

He swallowed heavily, realizing what this meant. Sherlock would have control of his cock. His erections. If and when John got to come.

Sherlock would have control. Full stop.

It was a wonderful, terrifying thought.

“This is the key.” Sherlock said, breaking in on John’s thoughts. “I want you to wear the cage for a few weeks. Test it out and make sure you can wear it comfortably without any…chafing or hygiene issues. If, at the end of a couple weeks, you decide this is something you want, you will give me the key. If you decide it’s not…” Sherlock shrugged. “We’ll think of something else.”

John bit his lip as he took the key from Sherlock, hesitant to accept it, not understanding why he didn’t want to. He fiddled with it before carefully placing it on his bedside table.

“If I decide this is something I want…how long would you keep it locked?” John asked, trying to act nonchalant as he moved back to the bed but with every step, the cage pulled on his cock, reminding him of its presence.

Sherlock smiled in anticipation as John knelt, fully naked on the bed, and began crawling towards him where Sherlock lounged against the pillows. “If you decide this is something you want, that will be a question you won’t be allowed to ask, John. If you give up control of your cock to me, that means I would decide if and when you get unlocked and get to orgasm.”

John gasped lightly, his cock trying- again- to get hard and, judging by the way Sherlock’s eyes danced wickedly, he knew how this was affecting John.

“I would decide. Not you. You’ll be able to tell me how you feel- and I would want to hear it…all your moans, your pleas….”Sherlock sighed as if he were already savoring John’s desperation. “But in the end, it would be me and not you who would decide if you were unlocked, if you were allowed to have an erection and orgasm. That’s the control you’re seceding to me. Do you understand?”

John nodded, breathless, already wishing he could get hard and feeling the beginning stirrings of frustration that he was prevented.

Sherlock rose up and pressed a reverent kiss against the warm plastic, his eyes smiling wickedly up at John as he did so.


	2. Chapter 2

John padded quietly down the hall to the loo, careful not to wake Sherlock as he gently closed the door and turned on the tap in the shower to let the water warm up.

As steam began to collect in the little room, fogging the mirrors and chasing the remaining sleep from John’s eyes, he pulled the key for the chastity device from his robe pocket. He fumbled with it as he clicked the small lock open and carefully, as gently as he could, maneuvered his testicles through the confining plastic ring. Once they were clear, he pulled the plastic cage off his cock, breathing a shaky sigh of relief when he was free.

He glanced at the door, almost expecting to see Sherlock standing there, an amused look on his face at John’s silly reaction. He wasn’t, of course. John knew it was just his own overactive mind making him feel so jumpy.

John touched his cock, stroked it, humming as it plumped and thickened in his hand after being constricted all night. It felt amazing, as much as it always did when he touched himself…but this time, John couldn’t fully enjoy it. He felt guilty. Immensely guilty.

He knew Sherlock had said he was allowed to remove the chastity device, that this was a trial run, to see if John could handle wearing it for long periods of time. He needed to be able to remove it and check that everything was ok.

Still. It felt wrong to remove it and be touching himself without Sherlock there. Even if John knew he was allowed.

Shaking away those thoughts, John keenly inspected his cock, checking for any signs of redness or irritation. There was nothing, though. No chafing or ligature marks married his skin and John smiled. He’d known Sherlock wouldn’t have chosen anything which would hurt him. No matter what they were doing or where, Sherlock always took care of him and it seemed he’d really outdone himself when he purchased the chastity device.

John glanced at the plastic, debating with himself, knowing he should probably put it back on immediately. He’d checked things out and made sure he was ok. He should lock it back on for the day. His cock, though, had already gotten hard. It was red, twitching insistently, and need pooled in John’s gut, running through his veins like a drug. He’d gotten off just last night, but the idea of what Sherlock would be doing to him- soon- made desire burn fire hot and left him shaky with arousal.

Before he could rethink it, John stepped into the warm spray of the shower and took himself in hand. His head fell back at the first wonderful, gliding stroke to his cock, pleasure sparking along his nerve endings. He bit his lip to keep himself from moaning, not wanting Sherlock to know what he was doing. It felt like he was cheating on Sherlock, defying his orders.

Except…well, there’d been no orders. Not really. Sherlock hadn’t told John he couldn’t masturbate. He hadn’t told him he wasn’t allowed to come. He was always very specific with John when they were in a scene if and when he could come, never leaving it up to chance. Last night, Sherlock hadn’t mentioned it for the trial run. And it was just that- a trial run. They weren’t officially doing this yet. Were they?

Besides, John already knew he would give the key to Sherlock at the end of a few weeks. He knew that, so long as the chastity device worked and didn’t raise any health concerns, Sherlock would have complete control of his cock and orgasms very, very soon. And, based on what Sherlock had said last night, it was very possible John would be going days, maybe even weeks, without being allowed the chance to get hard and come.

He gasped at the thought and his hand moving more quickly over his cock, chasing his orgasm. His hips pumped in time to his thrusts, pushing his cock into his hand. He panted, movements growing increasingly frantic, as he realized that he should enjoy this freedom while he could. In a few weeks, he wouldn’t be allowed to touch his cock anymore, not without permission…not unless Sherlock allowed it…

And it was very likely that Sherlock _wouldn’t_ allow it.

It was that thought which sent John suddenly juddering into orgasm, moaning softly and painting the tiles of the shower with stripes of come as his body shook. Distantly, he knew he needed to think more about why that thought turned him on so much, why he loved the idea of being denied, of Sherlock controlling him in such a way…but the wash of pleasurable chemicals through his body dulled his mind, and John let the disquiet go. For the time being.

He leaned against the side of the bath, breathing hard as he came back down, shuddering as the last pulses of come dripped from his cock. He glanced guiltily at the door, once again expecting Sherlock to be there, an eyebrow quirked in amusement, laughing at him knowingly. There was no one there and John snorted, shaking his head at himself.

Afterward he’d showered, John carefully dried his cock and balls and put the chastity device back on. His stomach jerked when he clicked the lock back into place and it was almost enough- almost- to make him hard again.

* * *

 

John was acutely aware of his cock throughout the first day.

As he got dressed, he was afraid there’d be an obvious bulge in his trousers. The chastity device was surprisingly discreet, though. It was barely visible when John was in his pants and, once his trousers were on, wasn’t even noticeable. John was still worried.

As he walked to work, he was afraid everyone would be able to take one look at him and be able to tell the strange, deviant thing he was wearing under his clothes. He knew it was there. He was hyper aware of the feeling of plastic encasing him. Every time he shifted his body, took a step, or moved in any way, the chastity device made itself known. It tugged distractingly at his cock. An odd, unexpected weight. A very strange, disconcerting feeling. And every time someone looked at him, John’s heart jumped in his chest, dread swamping him, that they were looking at him because of the device. John knew it was all in his head. He was just being paranoid. He had double and triple-checked that the device wasn’t noticeable under his clothes. He couldn’t help it, though. He feared discovery.

He made it to work without incident, feeling as if he were a bug under a microscope, and trying to adjust to the new sensation of having his cock locked up. The device, while making him mentally uncomfortable, didn’t hurt him physically. He quickly checked himself in the men’s loo, running his fingers over the plastic, which had warmed next to his skin, and found nothing wrong. He was fine, even after walking a few blocks to work.

By lunchtime, John had relaxed. No one noticed. And no one would ever know- unless they pulled his trousers down. And of course no one would ever do that. He was being ridiculous.

He still checked himself every time he went to the loos, making sure the device was fitted properly and that it wasn’t rubbing his skin raw. It wasn’t. It fit him perfectly.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

 

“How is it?”

John, in the process of cooking himself and Sherlock dinner, glanced over at the consulting detective who didn’t spare him even the barest of glances, seemingly absorbed in his experiment.

John didn’t even have to ask what Sherlock was referring to. He blushed and stammered. “It’s…fine. Uh…yeah. Really fine.”

Sherlock’s lips curled up in a pleased smile. “Good.”

* * *

 

The next morning, John resisted the almost-overwhelming urge to let himself out of the chastity device. He woke up with his cock straining against the plastic, throbbing, wanting to get hard but unable to do so. He knew he shouldn’t let himself out. He didn’t actually _need_ to. This was supposed to be a trial run, to see if John could wear it for long periods of time, and letting himself out every morning was counterproductive. John knew that. He still wanted to unlock the cage, though. Possibly have another wank to start his morning off on a good note.

And Sherlock didn’t have the key yet. John was allowed to do what he wanted….and what he wanted most was….?

Growling, John flung himself from the bed, resolutely leaving the key in the bedside table, and went to take his shower.

He carefully washed his locked-up cock, surprised and pleased with how easy it was to do with the strategic openings in the plastic. He even managed to dry himself off tolerably well and a quick blow-dry solved the rest of it. John caressed the plastic, rather amazed at the ingenious design of it. He still felt that he’d be more comfortable when- he swallowed hard- when he gave Sherlock control of his cock, his partner let him out at least once a week for a proper cleaning.

John sighed, running his fingers over the plastic, feeling at his confines wonderingly. His cock twitched, starting to fill the cage and John took his hand away, biting his lip, not wanting to tease himself. He wasn’t going to unlock it. He wasn’t.

He took a deep breath. Then another, controlling his heart which had started galloping at a frantic rate at the very idea that he could unlock it…if he really wanted. This was only day two. He was stronger than that. He didn’t need to release himself.

Squaring his shoulders, John marched from the loo and started getting ready for work.

* * *

 

Five days later, John was going crazy.

Sherlock was gone for the night, experimenting at St. Bart’s, and he’d told John he wouldn’t be back until the next morning. He’d given John a brief peck on the cheek as he rushed out the door and John had sighed after him, feeling frustrated. In more ways than one.

John hadn’t unlocked the cage once, not since that first day. He was doing his best to keep himself from it, feeling that it wasn’t what Sherlock would want- him unlocking his cock and wanking himself whenever he felt like it. And, surprisingly enough, John felt like it…a lot. And at the oddest of times.

He would be sitting in his office at work, doing tedious paperwork, and suddenly remember how Sherlock had touched him the night he locked the device on his cock, and his cock would throb, desire flooding his body, centering on the inaccessible portion of his anatomy.

Other times, John would catch sight of Sherlock, the slender curve of his pale neck as he worked with his chemicals, and want to kiss and suck at that exposed skin while Sherlock braced himself above John and pounded into him.

Then there were the times John would wake in the middle of the night from a steamy yet indistinct dream, his cock pressing painfully against the confines of the chastity device. He would roll over, whining, and think of reaching over and sliding open the bedside table drawer to get the key. He could unlock his cock- the idea tantalizing through his brain. He could almost feel how good it would feel to finally come after denying himself the last few days.

John hadn’t given in to the temptation, though. Not for five days. His own willpower and resolve had been enough to carry him through the rough spots but it had left John shaky and frustrated.

And, if he were being honest, more than a little _angry_.

He and Sherlock hadn’t had sex or done anything even remotely sexual since Sherlock had first locked the cage on John’s cock and given him the key. John knew why: Sherlock was giving him time to adjust, to parse through his thoughts and feelings about what Sherlock was asking him to do. Sherlock was giving John space. He didn’t want to push John or make him feel as if he were being pressured into anything.

John was grateful for the consideration, but he didn’t feel pressured. He’d had plenty of time to think about things. He didn’t want _space_.

Sherlock hadn’t even asked him, since that first day, how things were going. How the device felt. If John liked it or not. He hadn’t even mentioned it. Not once.

John felt unmoored. Jumpy and on edge. Dejected and _alone_.

The flat was too quiet without Sherlock and, to distract himself from the idea of retrieving the key and unlocking himself, John tried watching tv. His mind, however, kept wandering. He couldn’t concentrate. There was a constriction around his chest, as if tight bands were wrapping around and around his body, strangling him, suffocating him.

He wondered when Sherlock would be back. He ran through different conversations he would have with Sherlock when he got back in his head. They ranged from sniping comments that conveyed his anger to coyly seductive exchanges that ended in John getting fucked. John moaned, irritated with himself. With the whole situation.

Twice, John got out of his chair and started to the bedroom, throat clogged in arousal, intent on grabbing the key and letting himself out. Sherlock obviously didn’t care if he unlocked himself and wanked four times a day. He probably hadn’t been serious about the whole thing. If he had, he would be taking a more active interest in John and what he was doing.

Twice, John stopped himself, pivoting away from the bedroom door and striding into the kitchen, breathing heavily.

This can’t go on, John thought, standing in the middle of the sitting room, hands balled into frustrated fists at his sides. He didn’t want this to go on. Not anymore.

He’d had enough.

* * *

 

“Here. I want you to have it.”

Sherlock blinked, looking from John’s heated face to the key he held in his outstretched hand. The remnants of their breakfast were on the table, their tea still steaming and warm. Sherlock lowered his newspaper and quirked a questioning eyebrow.

“I know what you told me and I… I’d just feel better this way. I don’t like it. Not this. It’s not… It makes me feel… I just want you to have it. Not me. If there’s a problem I know all I have to do is tell you and you’ll let me out so it can get sorted.” John explained in a breathless rush. His face was flushed, breathing irregular, but the hand still holding the key out to Sherlock was steady.

Sherlock swallowed, a curl of pleasure working its way through his gut. He had expected this to happen, planned for it even. It was why he’d pretended to be indifferent to John and his wearing of the chastity device, why he’d given John so much space and the time to think about things. “You want me controlling it, don’t you, John?” He asked sympathetically, smiling up at his upset lover.

John shuddered at Sherlock’s low tone, closing his eyes, a faint blush working its way onto his cheeks. “ _Yes_.”

“You’ve needed me controlling it all along, haven’t you?” Sherlock asked, tugging at John until the other man straddled his lap, stiffly sinking down to sit astride Sherlock, his legs splayed to either side. Sherlock sucked in a sharp, eager breath at the feeling of the plastic cage pressing against his stomach through the thin material of John’s pajama bottoms. He spread his hand against John’s lower back, anchoring the smaller man to him, wanting to reach up and feel the heat of John’s blush beneath his fingertips. He loved it when John blushed. Sherlock smiled fondly, remembering the charming way John had blushed when he’d first shown him the tail…the mitts…his collar. John had blushed and been embarrassed…and all the while his cock had been hard.

“You’ve wanted to ask me before now…but you thought you could do it yourself, didn’t you? You can’t, though, can you, John? You need me to be the one doing it.”

“Yes, Sherlock.” John whispered, his voice already taking on the hazy, dreamy quality it always did when he and Sherlock played. Sherlock bit his lip, pleased.

“Ask me.”

John’s eyes snapped open, hugely dilated. “What?”

Sherlock’s eyes glittered wickedly. “Ask me to do it. Ask me to control you…and your cock…and your orgasms. Ask me John…and I will. It’s as simple and as easy as that.”

John swallowed hard, the words stuck in his throat. It didn’t feel easy. There was no way he could ask Sherlock that. He couldn’t. The idea was too humiliating.

Then John remembered the past few days. The horrible way he’d felt. How he’d almost given in to temptation multiple times a day. How much better he felt when he imagined Sherlock having the key, taking the risk out of his hand. Controlling him.

The thought sent a convulsive shudder down John’s spine and Sherlock’s hand tightened at the small of his back. Suddenly it was easy.

“Sherlock…will you…will you control…my…c-cock?” John stuttered, his face heating up at the humiliating question but feeling a sweeping, confusing sense of relief at the same time.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Sherlock queried seriously. “Do you remember what I said, John? Giving me the key means I have control of your cock. You won’t be able to decide when and where or how often you get to come. That will be my decision and mine alone. Do you agree to that, John?”

John's cock twitching at Sherlock’s words. “Yes.” He breathed, never having been so sure of anything in his life. That was what he wanted. It was what he’d wanked about earlier that week. It was what pervaded his dreams every night and what he fantasized about during the day. Yes. Yes, that was what he wanted.

Sherlock grinned up at him, plucking the key from John’s hand. “Then yes, John. Yes, I will.”

John visibly relaxed as soon as Sherlock took the key from him, his muscles unknotting and shoulders slumping. His knees felt almost shaky in relief and he was glad he was sitting on Sherlock or else he would have sank to the floor. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.” Sherlock pocketed the key and wasted no time in pulling John into a fervent kiss. He tangled their tongues together, licking at John’s mouth and drinking in John’s low, pleased moan. Sherlock reveled in the easy, relaxed way John let his body be maneuvered and Sherlock smiled into their kiss. His John was so lovely like this: when he finally surrendered to what he really wanted. It was always a bit hard to get him to that point. John had been raised with certain ideas about what he should and should not want and he got bogged down in feelings of shame and wrongness. He always wanted to deny and eschew the secret desires and kinks he longed for. His longing for submission was only the latest in a string of them and Sherlock hoped that one day John wouldn’t feel that way. For now, Sherlock was more than willing to take small steps with him and encourage him as much as he could.He knew the end result would be more than worth it- for both of them.

John was moaning into their kiss, running his fingers through Sherlock’s curls, possessively sweeping his fingers through the thick locks and pulling at them. Panting into their kiss, Sherlock arched his neck and pressed John tighter against him, rubbing his erection against John’s arse.

“Oh!” John gasped, bucking against him and groaning when all he succeeded in doing was rubbing the plastic of his device against Sherlock.

It was too much. Sherlock plucked John’s hand from his hair and placed it over his erection. “Make me come.” He gasped and John exhaled shakily before curling his fingers along the clothed length, giving it a few teasing strokes. Sherlock tugged sharply at John’s hair in warning. “ _Now_ , John.” He ordered darkly and John moaned breathily, immediately dipping his hand into Sherlock’s loose pajama bottoms, freeing his cock.

“I’ve wanted you so much these past few days,” Sherlock murmured as John set up a quick rhythm, moaning when pre-come oozed from the tip. Sherlock sealed their lips together again and bit at John’s lower lip. “Seeing you around the flat, knowing you were locked and trying to be good…all for me. I wanted to bend you over the kitchen table and fuck you.”

John shivered and whined when his cock pressed insistently against the plastic, flexing ineffectively. “Oh…Sherlock…” He shivered again and rested his head against Sherlock’s shoulder, watching as his hand worked over the hard length of Sherlock’s cock, distantly wishing it were his own.

John was unable to mask his whimper when Sherlock came, his cock spurting out thin ribbons of come, covering John’s hand and dripping down into their legs. Sherlock sighed, satisfied. John felt anything but. His body was still flushed. Need coiled in his abdomen, making his muscles jump and quiver. His cock throbbed.

“Do you want to come, John?” Sherlock asked, cocking his head to the side as if he didn’t know, as if he were genuinely curious and wasn’t aware of the fact that John was shaky and unsatisfied and needy.

“Yes. God, yes, Sherlock, please.” John whispered, kissing Sherlock while his body squirmed hopefully.

Sherlock pulled away to murmur darkly. “When was the last time you came, John?”

“The first day.” John whispered unsteadily against Sherlock’s lips. “The…Christ…the first day I wore it. I- I took it off so I could shower and….and…came.” He wanted relief, unable to stay still when his body was so overheated. He gasped when Sherlock nipped at his bottom lip, eyes sparkling.

“Then you don’t need to now.” Sherlock decided and John gasped, tensing when Sherlock licked a bold stripe up the side of his neck. John shuddered helplessly, mouth falling open as he groaned, Sherlock's words and their meaning sinking in with stunning, horrible clarity. He was tempted to beg. He really was. He needed it, so very much. His cock pulsated, still fruitlessly trying to get hard and he couldn’t remember ever needing something so bad in his life.

“Sherlock-“

“That’s what you asked for when you gave me the key. Isn’t it?” Sherlock rumbled. “I have the right to say that, don’t I, John?”

John swallowed thickly. “Yes, Sherlock.”

“And that’s what you wanted, isn’t it, John? You wanted to give me that right, didn’t you?”

John panted against Sherlock’s neck, hands fisted in the front of his shirt. Yes, yes he had. “Yes.” He whispered, heart thudding in his chest as he realized he wouldn’t be coming. Not that day. And not until Sherlock decided he was allowed. And God, the idea made him even _more_ aroused, made his heart thud faster as desire spiked through him. “Yes, Sherlock.” His voice was raw, shaking, and Sherlock kissed him, hands soothing gently at his sides, helping him to relax.

“Beautiful.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I haven't updated this in a while. I've not abandoned it. Just been busy. :D

John knelt, trembling, on hands and knees, moans vibrating from deep within his chest as Sherlock fingered him open, taking his time, stretching John for a good fuck. His caged cock pulsed in time to the ministrations of Sherlock’s fingers slipping in and out of his arse with obscene squelching sounds. It’d almost been a whole week since the last time John had came- his clandestine wank in the shower a haunting, distant memory- and he was desperate.

It wasn’t that seven days was the longest he’d ever gone without coming. John had gone much, much longer before- in uni when his school load had got stressful and strenuous, in Afghanistan, hell, even while living with Sherlock before they started dating and doing all the kinky things they liked to do to each other. He’d gone longer than seven days without reaching orgasm, without craving it, without thinking of it, dwelling on it almost every hour of every day.

Except….

The chastity device made John _constantly_ aware of his cock. He woke up with it straining to get hard, his morning erection ruthlessly curbed by the plastic. When he was naked, it was there, unmistakable and immoveable. The plastic rubbed distractingly against his pants when he walked. Every time he went to the loos, the chastity device was there. He couldn’t touch his cock, couldn’t get hard, or even use it properly. It was incredibly distracting.

John was brought out of his thoughts by a teasing brush of Sherlock’s fingers against his prostate, the action startling a cry from his mouth. His hips jerked, rolling down, and his cock throbbed frantically.

“You’re being so good for me, puppy. So very good.” Sherlock murmured, sounding wickedly pleased, and John panted, closing his eyes, and forced his body to go lax again. He breathed deeply, inhaling the intoxicatingly rich smell of leather from his collar, mitts, and knee pads. It was a comforting smell, one John associated with both safety and desire, a combination that perhaps shouldn’t make sense but, to John, was perfect. Whenever he caught a whiff of the leather, he experienced a Pavlovian reaction.

Sherlock’s fingers slipped in and out of John’s arse, a steady but teasing rhythm, and John swallowed heavily, arms trembling, wanting more. He couldn’t believe how turned on he was and he wasn’t even hard.

He rocked back, fucking himself on Sherlock’s fingers. Sherlock chuckled.

“Naughty, puppy.” He withdrew his fingers and John moaned at the loss. A ringing slap on his buttock made him gasp, brought him back to the present and cleared some of the aroused haze from his mind. “Since you’re so impatient…down.”

At the well-known command, John sank down, his mittened hands sliding out from beneath him until he could press his shoulders flush against the floor, leaving his arse high in the air. His breath caught in his throat in anticipation of being fucked.

“Lovely.”

Sherlock pressed a gossamer kiss against John’s tailbone and he squirmed, thrusting his caged cock in the air. He received another playful slap for not staying still as he was supposed to but John could tell Sherlock wasn’t annoyed by his unintended disobedience. Was more amused by it than anything.

Sherlock’s cock easily slipped into John’s loose hole and he started a gentle pace, moving his hips in measured thrusts. His hand reached around and possessively fondled John’s heavy balls, tracing the plastic of his chastity device and his movements sped up.

“You’re leaking, puppy.” Sherlock whispered, curling his fingers around the plastic, his forefinger teasing the opening at the end of the chastity device where John’s slit was tightly pressed against it. The point of contact was small but John’s cock still reacted to the bit of stimulus, flexing hopefully, and a few more drops of precome seeped from the tip. Sherlock hummed happily, draping his body against John’s, his chest hot and damp against John’s back, to nip and suck at his ear. “Such a slutty puppy, craving cock. Even when you’re caged.”

John shuddered, mouth falling open as Sherlock ground his cock in his arse, rubbing it ruthlessly across his prostate. Pointless pleasure sparked through John’s body to settle, hot and aching, in his confined cock which throbbed uselessly against the boundaries of the chastity device. John bit his lip to keep from begging Sherlock to let him come. He wasn’t allowed to talk now- not while they were playing unless his needed to safeword. Besides, he’d done so well the last few days. He didn’t want to ruin it. He wanted to make Sherlock proud of him.

“So good….all for me.” Sherlock whispered, as if he were able to read John’s mind, and took his hand away. John struggled to keep the desperate noises in that single act elicited.

“You’re my good puppy. My very, very good puppy.” Sherlock cooed, raising up and gripping John’s hips in his large hands, starting a flurry of punishing thrusts into his arse that sent John skidding a few inches forward.

John felt as if he were choking on arousal. God, he needed. He _needed_. And yet, at the same time, all he wanted was for Sherlock to keep going, to keep fucking him as hard and fast as he could, selfishly taking his pleasure from John’s body while John was helpless and unable to take his own. His cock strained against the plastic at the idea, not getting the message that it wasn’t allowed to get hard. His heart was thundering in his chest, sweat sliding hot down his flushed face, and he could feel a rug burn starting high on his chest where he was pressed against the carpet. It felt glorious.

Behind him, Sherlock moaned, hips stuttering, his cock hardening even further in John’s arse. He came, yanking on John’s collar, forcing breathless gasps from his throat as he fucked his way through his climax, emptying himself in John’s arse in rapid, wet bursts. John clenched his eyes closed, shuddering in want. The nudge of a plug at his entrance didn’t faze John and he tilted his hips up, sighing when Sherlock pushed the hard length into him. He tightened his arse around it, mentally cursing when it rubbed his now swollen and hypersensitive prostate, even when he straightened at Sherlock’s request.

“It’s a new plug I bought just for this occasion.” Sherlock explained, noticing John’s uncomfortable squirm. “It’s curved in such a way to rub your prostate with each and every movement.” He smirked wickedly and the arousal in John’s stomach curled tighter. “Would you like to play fetch now?”

John whimpered, wriggled, and immediately gasped as the plug rubbed persistently against him. On instinct, his hips jerked forward, rocking the plug against him even more. Sherlock laughed and John forced himself to stop, taking gasping breaths as his cock pulsed fruitlessly. His entire body trembled, muscles locking in an attempt to prevent the plug from rubbing against him any more. He didn’t think he could take the stimulation at the moment.

“Maybe not tonight.” Sherlock decided, eyes dancing. “You’ve been so incredibly good, puppy. I’d like to give you a reward.”

_Oh, yes. Yes, please._

The click of the lock opening made John’s heart skip a beat and he held his breath while Sherlock carefully worked the cage off his cock. It immediately sprang to attention, blood flooding into the previously contained length, and John moaned, the feeling of his finally being able to have an erection heady.

He hissed when Sherlock closed his hand, slippery with lube, around his cock. His cock was incredibly sensitive after being caged away the last seven days and, as Sherlock stroked him, John couldn’t hold back his moans any more. He jerked, the plug in his arse adding to the building pleasure instead of cruelly teasing him, trying to hump into Sherlock’s hand, mouth falling open.

“Oh… _fuck_ -“

Sherlock immediately took his hand away and John’s eyes flew open.

“No talking. You know the rules, puppy. No more talking or I’ll stop. And you won’t get to come tonight.” He said sternly, eyes severe and mouth thinned down into an uncompromising line. John nodded, chastened. He knew the rules when they played this way, and first and foremost was: no human speech. And they were obviously still playing because Sherlock had yet to remove John’s collar and mitts. He couldn’t believe how stupid he could be. Sherlock was rewarding him for being good and he was fucking it all up. He wanted to plead with Sherlock to forgive him, to promise him he would do better- just, please…

But he wasn’t allowed to talk, could only gaze up at Sherlock with pleading eyes, trying to communicate in his posture that he’d be good for him.

Finally, once John was practically vibrating in anxious energy, Sherlock relented and wrapped his hand around John’s cock again, his face relaxing into a smile at John’s grateful whine.

Sherlock knew how to draw it out. After being denied for a full week, it was obvious he knew John didn’t want a quick rush to climax which would only leave him half-satisfied and craving more. He went slow, dragging his hand up and down John’s slick length, letting John’s orgasm crest slowly, filling his body in tingles that ratcheted up and up and up with every stroke of Sherlock’s hand. John’s face felt flushed. His heart felt as if it were about to beat out of his chest. His testicles, heavy and aching, feeling swollen, were drawing up, ready to finally release.

“ _Please_ -“

The word stalled across John’s lips before he could reign it back and his eyes snapped open in disbelieving horror when Sherlock’s hand dropped away from his cock, leaving him bereft, humping the air futilely.

“I said no talking.” Sherlock reprimanded. “You disobeyed me…which means you don’t deserve the reward.”

John moaned, cock throbbing hotly between his thighs. He didn’t think he’d ever been so hard in his life. It felt as if the slightest touch would make him come. He didn’t think he could do this.

“You can safeword.” Sherlock murmured gently, stroking John’s hair, once again reading John’s mind. 

John heaved a deep breath, burying his face in Sherlock’s lap, trying to relearn how to breathe. He could safeword. He could always safeword when he was with Sherlock. And he knew Sherlock wouldn’t be upset about it, he wouldn’t try and make John feel guilty for using the word they’d agreed on.

But he wasn’t actually being hurt. Yes, his limits- and his patience, dear god- were being pushed but not in a way that was damaging. Not in a way he couldn’t honestly handle. Sherlock had told him not to talk and he had disobeyed.

“N-no. I…I won’t safeword.” John shivered, cock twitching between his legs, heavy with arousal. Arousal that wouldn’t be relieved that night. Wouldn’t be relieved until Sherlock said. Oh, god.

* * *

 

Sherlock cleaned John’s cock and John tried to stay still but he was unable to stop the reflexive, needy thrust of his hips as Sherlock dragged the wet cloth over his cock. Sherlock made sure John was dry before waiting for his erection to subside- which seemed to take forever- and locking the chastity device back on his cock.

Once John was free of his collar and mitts, he lunged forward, kissing Sherlock passionately. Sherlock laughed against his lips, cupping his cheek and dragging John closer to him.

“You’ll tell me if you need to safeword?”

“Yes.” John whispered throatily, ineffectually grinding himself against Sherlock’s leg. He couldn’t seem to stop. “God…Sherlock, I want to come so damn badly.”

“I know.” Sherlock whispered back, fingers idly trailing down John’s spine. “And I’ll let you…in a day or two.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no puppy play in this chapter, unfortunately. The next chapter will be full of it, though. Promise x

John’s hands were behind him, bracing his body against the side of the sink in their small loo as Sherlock, knelt in front of him, finished washing his cock. John’s fingers spasmodically twitched on the cool porcelain, wanting to reach forward and stroke himself off.

But he didn’t.

Because Sherlock had told him not to.

John’s cock twitched where Sherlock held it, lightly between his fingers, and John blushed, embarrassed, when Sherlock raised an eyebrow, giving him a look as if he knew what John were thinking. Which he did. He seemed to always know what John was thinking. It’d been Sherlock’s idea, after all, this whole chastity thing. He’d known what John had needed- even before John knew- and provided a way to give it to him.

The chastity device had became an almost permanent part of him. John wore it all the time, barring the times Sherlock unlocked it and released him from it. John had explained about the weekly cleaning he thought should take place to Sherlock and, after making his point that not only was wearing the device long-term more hygienic that way, he’d also pointed out that Sherlock could control that too. The when, the where- and use the opportunity to tease John.

Unsurprisingly, Sherlock had agreed. It quickly became something of a kinky ritual for them- and a weekly pleasurable torment for John.

“You get hard so quickly now.” Sherlock commented, eyeing John’s twitching erection with undisguised fascination. John huffed out a sardonic laugh, the bite of which was lessened by the way he was flushed all the way down his chest, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly, veritably choking on arousal and hopefully watching Sherlock touch him.

John released a shaking breath as Sherlock brushed his fingertips along the length of John’s cock before drawing away and watching it throb and bounce, angry red in denied arousal. It hadn’t been that long since his last orgasm. Only three days. But there was something about wearing the device, giving up control of his cock and himself to Sherlock, submitting, sucking Sherlock off or getting fucked and making Sherlock come while he wasn’t able to do the same to himself- leaving it up to Sherlock to decide- that flipped John’s switch. He got off on it hard- metaphorically speaking, of course.

“I love having you like this.” Sherlock admitted quietly, his hands splayed wide on John’s quivering thighs. “I love that you’ve given me this much control over you. That you’ve trusted me enough to give this-” Sherlock shoved his nose into John’s crotch, inhaling, before he licked a long stripe up John’s cock, teasing in that it provided no further stimulation. “…to me.”

John swallowed heavily, cock twitching and hips jumping forward incrementally despite his best efforts to keep still. “Yes. Of course- of course, I did.”

“Of course you did.” Sherlock echoed, wickedly smiling up at John. John’s heart stuttered in his chest, then picked up in double time. Sherlock ducked his head and, eyes never leaving John’s, took John’s hard, leaking cock into his mouth and gave it a strong suck.

“Oh- fuck!” John mindlessly grasped Sherlock’s curls, pumping his hips into the slick confines of that gorgeous mouth-

Sherlock forcefully pulled away, mouth sliding from John’s cock, and gave John a commanding glare. He ruthlessly ignored John’s heartbroken cry and the futile thrust of his hips forward.

“ _Hands_.”

John immediately jerked his hands away from Sherlock’s hair, slapping them back against the sink and hanging on for dear life. His knuckles went white with the force he was gripping the sink. “Sorry.” His heart leapt in his chest, hoping he hadn’t fucked it up. Hoping Sherlock wouldn’t say he’d missed his opportunity and lock him back up. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-….”

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Sherlock’s lips, drawn into thin lines of displeasure, curved into a darkly pleased smile. “Oh, John, I do love you so very much this way.” He said, tongue coming out to tease at the leaking tip of John’s cock.

John whimpered, too far gone with desperate arousal to give a fuck how pathetic he may or may not sound. He’d be embarrassed fucking _later_.

“Keep your hands where they are or I’ll stop.” Sherlock warned, breath hot against John’s cock. It twitched in front of Sherlock’s face, begging for more attention. John nodded frantically, letting Sherlock know he understood, breathless in anticipation.

Sherlock sucked him down again, taking strong pulls at John’s cock, bobbing his head, eyes rolled up to watch each of John’s reactions as they flitted across his face. John moaned, a long and needy sound, hips thrusting forward. He expected to be rebuked but for once, Sherlock let him, let John fuck into his mouth, the head of his cock brushing the back of Sherlock’s throat over and over. John’s thighs quivered, muscles jumping, and he tightened his grip on the sink behind him as his knees felt like they were about to give way.

His testicles drew up tight against his body, almost painfully as his orgasm pooled in his gut, heavy and demanding. His skin prickled, breaths coming short and sharp-

“Oh…Sherlock...! Can I come? P-please, can I come?” John managed to stutter, half afraid Sherlock would pull away and tease him some more…but Sherlock hummed and engulfed John’s cock all the way down, swallowing around him. That was all the permission John needed. He came with a shout, feeling his cock squirting into Sherlock’s mouth, eyes rolling back at the exquisite pleasure of it. He threw himself into his orgasm, enjoying it as much as he could. He didn't know when he'd be allowed to come next- hours, days, or even weeks away- and the denial had taught him the art of appreciation. Sherlock, for his part, helped draw out John's orgasm, swirling his tongue around his length, never stopping the gentle bobbing motions of his head until John finally squirmed from oversensitivity. 

Sherlock slurped off his cock and stood, pressing his lips to John’s and John opened his mouth without protest, knowing what to expect. Sherlock’s tongue slid along his own as he pushed John’s come into his mouth and John swallowed it, wincing only slightly at the taste. This was something Sherlock had started recently and, while it wasn’t John’s favorite thing, the inherent message it contained, feeding his own come back to him, made his spent cock jerk weakly with renewed interest.

He could feel Sherlock’s cock, hard against his naked hip, and John made an enquiring sound. “Do you want me to…?”

“Later.” Sherlock said, nipping at John’s bottom lip one more time. “I want to _fuck_ you.”

John shivered in anticipation.

Sherlock didn’t ask if John wanted the cock cage back on or not. He merely knelt and, after cleaning John’s cock again, manipulated it through the plastic before snapping the lock closed with a practiced flick of his wrist. John watched him do it, hands still gripping the edges of the sink, a pleased feeling settling over him at the sight of Sherlock’s ownership.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no shame- if I ever did. :)


End file.
